Her Gentleman Pirate (High Seas & High Stakes Book 2) (3 page)

S
he was tied up again
.

Arabella sighed. It seemed throwing the captain’s second mop and bucket overboard had pushed the man too far. But never would she allow him to make her do such a menial task again. Her arms still ached, a fact that wasn’t helped with them being tied behind her back.

The sun had long gone down and her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the late hour. She was being punished. Dinner had not been forthcoming and the thought of missing out brought tears to her eyes. Would he feed her at all tonight?

Gosh she hoped so.

She glanced over his desk and spied the apple sitting on a tray. Not being able to reach for it made her stomach cramp even more. The captain would pay for this abuse.

Wiggling her bonds was of little use and so she sat and waited for when he decided to turn up. If ever. Laughter and loud jests sounded from the deck above. Someone played a pipe instrument of some sort that made these sea fearing men dance, if the loud steps were anything to go by.

It was obvious that in their enjoyment they’d forgotten about her. Were content to let her starve to death.

The door opened and she almost sighed in relief, but the severe set of the captain’s face soon stopped all mirth. His eyes were sleepy, a day’s growth of beard marked his strong jaw. Arabella swallowed the trepidation that took flight in her gut. He was foxed. Her attention snapped to his bared torso and the corded muscles that flexed with each breath.

She should look away with disdain. She was a lady, a woman of impeccable breeding. How dare he make her want to take that final step on her discoveries of men and have him show her all there was to experience. That was what her betrothed was for.

Arabella’s mouth gaped as her gaze followed the taut V of muscle that disappeared into his breeches. She started at her own thoughts, which were anything but innocent. One night when she and Nina had snuck out, they had heard music while passing the mews. They stopped and spied on the servants and what they’d seen there had opened her eyes to what men and women did when alone. Of what the male body looked like in the throes of passion.

She bit her bottom lip, imagining exactly what this captain would look like in such a position.

Arabella started at her own thoughts. What was she doing thinking in such a way? This man had kidnapped her. Made her work like a servant. Forgot to feed her. He’d be lucky if she didn’t spit in his face. “I do believe you’ve forgotten something.”

He raised his brow and contemplated her with a glance that she didn’t even want to surmise over. “What would that be?”

His deep baritone, slightly slurred with liqueur had an odd twang to it. Similar to those who hailed from Scotland. Arabella frowned. Where was he from before sailing the high seas?

“My dinner. If you haven’t noticed in your drunken state, it’s near the middle of the night and I’m starving. Now turn about and go fetch me some.” He laughed. A great holler that irked even more than being starved. He found this amusing? “I’m not joking, Captain Blackmore.”

He rubbed his eyes and beckoned to a man she hadn’t seen standing behind him in the shadows. Her mouth watered as the smell of chicken broth and a plate of vegetables and bread was placed before her. Never had food been all-consuming and never had she been more desperate to eat it.

The lout didn’t move to release her bonds. Was he planning on teasing her with the meal all night? The thought of such punishment almost brought tears to her eyes. “Unless you’re going to feed me yourself, you had better untie me.”

“Interesting concept and one I’m only too willing to try.” He pulled up a chair before her and picked up the bread. The dough smelt newly cooked and delicious. He tore a little bit off and held it before her lips. Arabella met his gaze over the top of his fingers. It wasn’t just food he was offering, but a taste of sin. Something told her, should she take a bite, her life would never be the same.

Her heart pounded as she leaned forward and took the food from his fingers.

* * *

S
tephen inwardly groaned
as her sweet lips opened and she took the piece of bread into her mouth. Thoughts of other things going into the orifice bombarded his mind and his cock twitched. He’d planned on staying away. Of letting her starve for one night.

The woman was trouble and more annoying than he thought she was going to be. The fact she had thrown two mops and a bucket overboard irritated and amused him at the same time. Who did that type of tomfoolery?

He hadn’t expected it from a woman of her breeding and yet he liked her spirit.

From all reports, she should be frightened of him. Submissive and demure. Instead, he’d been dealt a harridan who hadn’t reached old age. She chewed and closed her eyes, seemingly enjoying the repast. A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience. He’d never been one to starve anyone, least of all a woman, but there was something about this minx that rubbed him the wrong way. Or worse, rubbed him entirely the right way.

He cleared his throat. “Better?”

Her glistening, deep green eyes met his and for a moment he lost himself in their depths. She was an exquisite woman. Her body was one he could spend hours devoted to. A nice pair of breasts he’d watched longingly all day, long, lean legs that would wrap nicely about his waist and beautiful brown locks that cascaded over her delicate shoulders.

“Please tell me you’re going to give me more than a sliver of bread.”

He grinned at her gumption. What a remarkable spirit. He doubted anyone could break her, and he hoped no one ever did. She was magnificent.

Stephen ladled some soup onto the spoon and held it against her lips. She moaned as the liquid hit her tongue. The intoxicating sound made him fumble with the cutlery. Desire coursed through him and he adjusted his seat knowing if he made it through the meal without ravishing her, it would be a miracle.

His captive ate every bite of her repast. He leaned back in his chair and watched her. She didn’t say anything, no thanks or comments on the meal, just held his gaze with a forthrightness he’d never experienced before. Not with a woman at least.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asked at length already knowing what the answer would be.

She scoffed. “Why would I be? I’m worth more to you alive than dead. And since I figure we’re headed for London I assume you intend to return me to my family when you’ve been paid your
supposed
debt.”

“Not supposed,” he said, interrupting her. “Owed.”

“In any case, I’m sure Father and you can come to some sort of agreement without my reputation being sullied.”

Stephen nodded. “I’m sure we can.” He poured some wine before untying her. She grabbed the goblet and drank deep. He really shouldn’t have left her for so long. “Tell me, should you escape this kidnapping reputation in tack, just what are the plans for the determined Miss Hester?” Sadness flickered through her gaze and he wondered at it.

“I’m betrothed. In only a few weeks, I’ll be Lady Montague. A countess no less. The marriage is set to take place at his country estate in Shropshire. I consider myself very fortunate to marry a man of good breeding and upstanding values. Some of which are noticeably missing on this boat.” Her perfect nose rose in the air with her speech.

“Ship.” He smiled at her barb. He should call her Cat. Her claws were sharp enough. “You wound me.” He placed his hand across his chest for emphasis. “Do you believe marriage will make you happy? Will the esteemed Lord Montague make you happy?” Stephen started, wondering why he’d ever want to know the answer to such a question. Miss Hester meant nothing to him.

She frowned, small lines appearing between her brows. Instinctively, Stephen reached out and caressed her frown lines away. Touching her like this, without them having argued first sent liquid heat pouring through his veins. The soft flesh did strange things to his innards, made them tighten with need.

“I hope he will.”

Stephen hardly heard the whispered words. He traced her perfectly arched brow before letting his hand drop to his side. Not a freckle spotted her nose, not a blemish anywhere. A true English beauty if ever he’d beheld one. “And if he doesn’t?”

Somehow he’d leaned closer. Close enough for her breath to whisper against his cheek. He ran his hand down her neck and across her shoulder, her increased breathing making her breasts push against her gown. He clenched his jaw as desire rushed through him.

She shivered. “There is nothing I can do about it in any case. I will have to be content with what I have.”

Content? The delectable Miss Hester deserved much more than content. Her life should be full of passion, adventure, life. No matter what his dealings with her father, she deserved much more than mediocre. He wanted to touch her more, to run his hand across her breast and seduce her to sin. Stephen gritted his teeth and pulled back. Fought with what little there was left of him as a gentleman and not act a cad. “If ever you decide to see what life could be like with a real man, just ask me. I’m more than willing to show you.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Around this woman, he lost all sense of control and decorum. Her eyes flared before a blush stole over her cheeks. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. In any case, do you not have a woman at some port, just lying about waiting for her pirate captain to ravish her?”

“Ravish? You do hold me in high regard.” Sarcasm laced his tone. He liked a good tumble as well as any other, but he never ravished women. Where was the fun in that? Should a woman lay with him, he liked to receive as well as give pleasure. There was nothing he wanted more than a willing participant in bed sport. “Perhaps you ought to have a taste of my abilities. I promise I won’t bite. Much.”

For the first time he pulled a grin from her lips and it dazzled him silent. He hadn’t thought Miss Hester could get any more handsome. How wrong was he?

“Thank you, but no. I’m sure my future husband will do quite well enough. And you never answered my question.”

“What question was that?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. The thought of Lord Montague doing any woman justice in bed laughable. From what he’d heard of the fortune hunting popinjay, his tastes leaned more toward his own sex than those of the female kind.

“Is there a special woman in your life? Are you married or have you been?” Was that a tinge of interest in her query?

“You do ask a lot of questions for a captive woman. Why would you think I would answer them in the first place?” Stephen asked, enjoying the banter between them. For the first time since he’d thrown her delectable derriere over his shoulder, she was speaking to him in a relative normal manner.

“I suppose you don’t have to. I was just curious about your life. It’s a trait my father has tried to cure me of, but with little success. I am what I am.”

Stephen caressed a curl that had fallen over her shoulder. Never in his life had he wanted to kiss a woman so much. She watched him, the question in her eyes asking if he would act on his desires or not. “There is nothing wrong with who you are.”

“I don’t believe you know me well enough to make such a claim.” She pushed his hand away. “Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to go to bed.”

Stephen stood and held out his hand to assist her up. She stared at him a moment before allowing him to help. Her fingers were cool to the touch and so much smaller than his. “I think it’s time for you to commence the task I asked of you when you first arrived.”

“What task was that?” She stopped near the bed just as she reached for the covers.

“To help me dress and undress. I require your assistance morning and night.” He grinned at the disdain that bled into her features.

“The hell I will. Undress yourself and somewhere else. You’re not sleeping in here.”

He walked over to her and tipped up her chin. Her lips opened on a gasp or invitation he wasn’t sure. And as much as he wanted to take her, taste the sweet essence she possessed, he refrained. “Come, Miss Hester. Surely you do not wish to be tied up again until you succumb to my demand.”

The look on her face said more than any words could just what he could do with his demand. What a minx. A refreshing, feisty chit. He could get used to having her about.

She huffed out a breath of annoyance and reached for the buttons on his breeches. “Let me get a couple of things clear before I do this. Under no circumstance do I wish you to think I’m enjoying myself in the least, because I’m not. This is a vile, un-gentlemanly thing to make a woman do under the circumstances.”

The first button popped and he swallowed. His body yearned for her. Right at this moment, it wasn’t beneath him to beg for just one touch.

“Secondly, should I find out you’ve gone crowing on deck that you’ve made your captive demean herself so, I will cut off the appendage you’re so determined for me to see and when you least expect it. Do you understand?” Her voice was authoritative, and damn well near undid him. He loved a woman with courage.

“I understand entirely,” he said on a gasp when she accidently grazed said appendage.